


A Suffocating Love

by mamokou (mafreila)



Category: TsukiPro the Animation
Genre: Angst, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hanahaki Disease, Hospitals, I am so sorry, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Unrequited Love, deadass is there anything else i need to tag, if i forgot anything im sorry !!, no happy ending do not come here if you're looking for a good ending bc there is not, vazzrock stans pls dont come for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22300558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mafreila/pseuds/mamokou
Summary: A late night drunken exchange makes Ouka realize that yes, he is in love with VAZZY's leader, Mamiya Takaaki, and no, said unit leader does not feel the same way for him. His life is changed forever from that moment -- in the worst way possible.AKA, a HanaHaki AU fic, because I love making people suffer!
Relationships: Kira Ouka/Mamiya Takaaki
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	A Suffocating Love

**Author's Note:**

> hello !! this is.. well, not my first time writing a vzrk fic, but it is my first time publishing one and writing such a long, plot-heavy and character-centric fic for them. therefore i'm sorry if anyone is out of character or the plot has holes or.... anything, really, bc none of this is my forte.
> 
> mostly just wrote this for a friend bc her fav is ouka and i wanted to make him die. i am a good friend. Don't come for me please ok thank you and please enjoy (to the best of your abilities).
> 
> a lot of the second half is not beta-read so there are likely mistakes or discrepancies... orz

When a loud cough erupts from Ouka’s throat, heads immediately turned to glance in his direction. The light-haired idol splays his hands over his mouth, eyes widening at first as if his sudden outburst had surprised him as much as it did everyone else, then an apologetic glint shone in them as he struggled to calm the feather-light scratch against his throat that was irritating him so much more than it needed to. He knew he was causing a scene, and he glanced away from the heavy stares burning into him when his cough wouldn’t let up, rising to his feet and quickly choking out an apology as his chair skidded against the wooden panels of the floor underneath its legs.

“Excuse me,” he manages, albeit rather breathlessly, bowing his head down before briskly walking away from the seated group, trying his best to suppress the growing intensity of his discomfort. He burst into the bathroom and locked the door behind him, collapsing against it and clasping his hands around his throat tightly once his coughs began turning to violent hacking, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. He weakly sobbed into each cough, pain shuddering through his entire body.

There was the fear nagging at the back of his mind, of course, that it wouldn’t stop. This wasn’t the first time he’d found himself gasping for air, and just like any other time before, there was this lingering feeling of dread that left him wondering if maybe this time he would just choke to death on the corrupted air surrounding him like a web weaved around him. His breaths grew more and more shallow as he struggled to gulp down air in the midst of his choking.

No matter how many times he went through this, he could never quite keep himself calm, even though he’d managed to come out of it just fine in the past. He always tried to tell himself that it was ridiculous to be so afraid, because he wasn’t going to  _ die  _ over what was probably just a common cold that happened to have a bit of a nasty cough to it. 

But that was just him trying to come up with excuses in his head, because he already was well aware that this wasn’t a cold. He’d known since the first moment it started, back when Ouka and Issa were drinking together some amount of weeks ago. 

The younger idol had stupidly,  _ stupidly  _ admitted to Issa that he thought he might be love with Takaaki, thinking that it was alright to confess when they’d both forget about it within a few more drinks; his tongue had been so heavy in his mouth as he’d admitted how they’d slept together a month prior, and mumbled about how much he had loved the way those strong hands had held him down and treated him like royalty. He wanted more of that intimacy, to embrace Takaaki again, let him do those kinds of things with Ouka as much as he pleased. He longed for sweet nothings whispered in his ear on cold winter nights while pressed up against the brunet under the covers, perfectly content with being so lost in the moment. Most of all, Ouka really wanted to be  _ his.  _

At least Issa didn’t laugh at him. 

In fact, he’d taken Ouka’s confession a lot more seriously than he would have expected from the seemingly apathetic idol, pondering for quite a long time what to say to the other’s drunk ramblings—actually, maybe it was just because Issa had his fair share of alcohol, too, that he actually felt any sort of obligation to help with Ouka’s problems, but that was besides the point. 

The main issue was the way Issa shot down Ouka’s thoughts after a mere few seconds of debate, waving a hand in the air so  _ casually  _ as he informed the light-haired male that Takaaki wasn’t interested in Ouka. Something about how he’d overheard the two leaders of VAZZROCK speaking when Takaaki had complained about his partner coming into him. 

Instantly, the light-haired man had felt his heart twist and turn in every angle and direction he thought was possible, and that’s when he’d started coughing, much to the shock of Issa. He’d thought maybe Ouka was going to vomit, and his words were like cotton in the other’s ears as he hurriedly demanded if the other had drunk too much, if he was going to be sick. Even Ouka wasn’t sure, and even if he had known, he couldn’t even get air through to his lungs without choking on it, so it was impossible for him to provide any sort of answer. His eyes were wide with fear as he gulped in quick breaths of air between rough coughs that scratched his throat. He remembers how he held up a hand when Issa tried to lean forward and support him, a pleading twinkle to his eyes that was enough to stop any further assistance as he staggered to the door and hurried out. He’d believed then that he was going to die, truly, until all at once it stopped.

The coughing stopped abruptly with him spitting up a single petal that descended into the palms of his hands. It was that of a cherry blossom, pale pink in color… except for the fact that there were droplets of blood along the edge of it. With his thumb, Ouka smeared the liquid across the flower petal, confirming that it was his own blood, fresh from his throat. His legs trembled with the effort of standing, quickly giving in and sending him collapsing onto the floor in front of Issa’s room, panic coursing through his veins. 

He’d known from the second he’d seen that petal, known there wasn’t any other explanation for why he was sick. But he continued to deny it, even to this very moment, where he lay slumped against the bathroom door and coughing up several petals, creating a significant pile of bloodied cherry blossom petals in the palms of his hands. At this point, he had no way of knowing when it would end, or if it would end at all… thus, he tried to reassure himself constantly that it was fine. Even while he felt the entire world spinning around him from the lack of air in his lungs, he pushed away the fear that paralyzed him and rooted him to the ground, choosing to pretend this was normal. 

A weak sob escaped him as he tried to rise to his feet, simply falling back against the door again. There was a knock behind him, and he stiffened, remaining silent as best he could despite how much he wanted to keel over and gasp for breath. He didn’t want anyone finding out about this, especially not...

“Oi. You done yet? You’re freaking everyone out, so hurry up,” an aggressive voice mutters from outside, twisting the knob to make sure it wasn’t coincidentally unlocked. Ouka relaxes a bit when he realizes it wasn’t who he dreaded, but still felt his heart hammering away in his chest. 

“Throw the flowers away, I’ll… I’ll do something about it.” The irritation lessened a bit in the dark-haired idol’s voice, and Ouka trembled against the doorframe with wide eyes as he processed the words being spoken to him.

“...Issa?”

He flinches at how weak his voice sounds, rasping against his windpipes when he squawked out the other’s name. He doesn’t know what to do, because... that can’t be right, he must have misheard. There was no way Issa, the laziest of the group, had gathered enough information to know his situation.  _ Right? _

“What? You really that surprised?” The black-haired man sighs audibly, clicking his tongue soon after. There was a dull thud that Ouka could only assume was him leaning against the other side of the door. “You collapsed outside  _ my _ room last time, you know. Of course I figured out what was going on. I won’t tell anyone, but I won’t help you, either.”

Ouka nods, stunned, as if Issa could see the gesture from where he was standing, a barrier standing strong between them. He makes the connection in his head that  _ won’t _ probably means  _ can’t --  _ no one can save him from his impending death. He laughs under his breath, a soft yet manic sound. Of course it would be like this. 

“...I’ll cover you for five minutes. Use the trash can in my room and I’ll get rid of them later. Got it?”

There’s a long moment of silence where Ouka simply fails to understand any of this. Maybe he’s delirious, or something, because it doesn’t make any sense to him, as if he was being spoken to in another language. Issa clears his throat, still lingering outside the door. 

“Sorry,” Ouka rasps, and Issa can’t help but feel a surge of pity at the way the younger idol’s voice trembles from weakness. It even sounded like the voice of someone on the verge of tears, perhaps. 

“I got it. Throw the petals in your trash can…” The light-haired male repeats the directions out loud, mostly for his own sake of trying to get through to his brain to understand what exactly he was meant to do. 

“You can do that much, right?” 

It was a normal, condescending comment coming from Issa, but it lacked the usual bark it should’ve had to it, that spiteful annoyance that would always irritate the living daylight out of Ouka; instead of that, this remark was said in the most gentle way he’d ever heard that voice speak, laced with worry. 

Ouka choked back a sob before offering a small noise of affirmation, nodding once more on instinct. He could hear the sound of fading footsteps as Issa strolled away without another word, leaving the sick man to collect himself off the cold bathroom floor, fingers clutching tightly to the petals scattered along his palms. 

Five minutes.

He’d have five minutes to rid himself of these dastardly petals and pretend they weren’t a part of him. Maybe it was just some form of denial, to completely reject the facts like this; he knew deep down that nothing was going to change just because he was running away like a coward. He  _ knew  _ that, but...

“I don’t want to die…!”

Despite his best efforts to remain calm, Ouka felt panic tearing away at his insides--or was that just the flowers blooming within him, piercing their way through his lungs, that made his chest feel so tight? Either way, the effect was all the same; he could feel his throat constricting, his body attempting to launch him into another fit. He drew in shallow breaths while fighting off the urge to vomit as he forced himself to his feet, a wave of nausea washing over him from the sudden movement. Leaning steady against the cold tile of the wall, he swung the door open and staggered down the hallway into Issa’s bedroom. 

As Ouka discarded the petals into the depths of the trash can in the corner of the room, he felt his light-headedness growing stronger, making the world feel as if it were spinning right in front of his very eyes. He could manage this much, at least, couldn’t he? Why was he so… 

“Pathetic…” he muttered under his breath, faltering as he struggled to exit the room; his forehead made direct contact with the frame of the door, a loud thud resonating in his skull as he groaned in pain. He knew at this point there was no way he could face the other members of VAZZY, but he still stubbornly pressed on, squeezing his eyes shut in focus; he just needed to make sure he didn’t throw up the bile that was steadily rising in the back of his throat. Doing so would lead to more flowers, more mess, and he just wanted to escape all of this.

Most of all, he was tired. So…  _ so  _ tired. He doesn’t realize he’s even stopped walking until he’s suddenly on the floor — when did he collapse? He isn’t sure -- and everything was fading to a blur in front of him. His throat felt stuffed to the brim with petals upon petals but he forced them back, his last thought before falling unconscious being of how much he wished Takaaki could help him, how desperately he wanted the older male to hold him close and tell him everything would be alright. 

But of course, fate always truly has a cruel way of making his hopes come true, doesn’t it? 

When he became conscious again, he found that he was laying in the comfort of his bed, but confusion overwhelmed him as he wondered how he’d gotten here. When he glanced around the room for some sort of hint, he spotted Takaaki nestled in a chair next to where he was lying, and he swore he could feel his heart come to a dead stop in his chest with how intensely his stomach lurched at the sight.

“T...Takaaki…? What are you…”

“Oh, you’re awake? Thank goodness. I, uh… found you passed out in the hallway, so I brought you back here. I hope that’s okay...” The warm, lopsided smile that Takaaki offers gives Ouka such a fuzzy feeling inside, but as soon as that pleasant feeling came, it twisted like a knife being turned in his gut, making him cough weakly in pain.

He could only assume he’d ended up with a fever by the way he feels like he’s drowning in his own sweat, but shivering all the same; he notes the presence of the damp towel folded over his forehead and feels guilt gnawing at his bones. “I’m sorry…” he mumbled sheepishly, closing his eyes for a moment — he still felt so exhausted, he could hardly even think enough to formulate a proper apology.

“Yeah, yeah. You need to take better care of yourself… if you didn’t push yourself so hard all the time, this wouldn’t happen, you know?” He scolds Ouka, but the frown on his face is one filled with concern, and it makes the light-haired idol feel sick to his stomach. 

There was a long silence that overcame the two as Takaaki scanned his partner up and down, trying to judge if his state had gotten any better with the sleep he’d gotten. In his groggy, confused state, Ouka wasn’t even sure how long he’d been asleep for; it could have been a few hours, or a few days, or anything in between.

“...Are you hungry? I think Futaba said he was going to cook up something light for you to eat. If there’s anything you need, just--”

“...I love you.”

Ouka doesn’t even register the words falling from his lips before it’s too late, his feverish daze making him highly unaware of what was even happening. All he knew in that moment was that he was scared, he was so utterly petrified when it came to everything relating to this sickness, and all he wanted was to feel Takaaki’s comforting warmth next to him (even though he was burning up from head to toe). 

“...Oh.”

_ Oh.  _ That’s all Takaaki says in response, and Ouka isn’t sure whether he prefers that sort of awkward disregard to the comment over getting an outright rejection. What was he even expecting? That his illness was all a sham, some sort of cruel joke? Of course it was true that Takaaki didn’t love him -- as much as Ouka didn’t want to admit it to himself.

So then, if he already knew, then why did it make his blood boil so much? Why did it make him want to cry and scream in agony, to curl in on himself and just embrace the utmost of despair sinking into his gut?

“Listen, I… think you’re a really valuable friend and partner, you know? I’m grateful for you, for making VAZZY what it is today. I couldn’t do it without you. But…”  
  
Takaaki draws in a deep breath, refusing to look at the white-haired male in fear of what his expression would look like as he continued, unable to turn back from this now. “I don’t feel the same. I’m sorry, Ouka, I can’t return your feelings… I…”

“Then why?”

Even Ouka is surprised at how calm his voice comes out as he asks the question, rolling over onto his side -- drawing in a sharp breath of pain through his teeth as his body ached -- so that he could face away from Takaaki. 

“Huh? Haha, I’m... not sure what you mean. Why what…?”

Nostrils flaring, Ouka clenches his jaw, willing himself not to cry. Not here, not now. He wants to run away, to do anything to avoid this conversation, but most especially to go back in time and stop himself from ever opening his mouth. 

“....Let me rephrase my question. Are you so unprofessional and  _ desperate  _ that you’ll sleep with anyone who happens to want anything to do with you?” 

He regrets the words the moment they’re out of his mouth, once again; he can practically hear the way Takaaki flinches in shock, hurt by the harshness of his comment. Neither of them speak again for a long moment, and the uncomfortable silence threatens to suffocate Ouka -- or maybe that was the petals pushing at the lower half of his throat, making it so, so hard to breathe. It felt as if they were multiplying in numbers after hearing the truth from Takaaki himself, though he supposed maybe they were; it would be fitting for his physical state to be deteriorating just as much as his emotional state was in this moment.

“I didn’t… think it was like that,” is all Takaaki says after carefully choosing what he should respond with. He refused to look at the other once again.

“So it’s true, then? You just wanted sex. Or did you think it was the other way around? Maybe you thought I was just desperate to get laid… Hah, I was an idiot to think you actually understood me.”

“Ouka, wait, that’s not..”

The younger idol draws his knees up to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just get out. Thanks for helping me, but… there’s no point in fighting like this. I don’t need you here.”  _ That’s not true, _ Ouka thinks as he finally feels himself losing the battle with his emotions, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. He wants nothing more than to hug Takaaki and just cry into his chest, get out all of his emotions by sobbing and yelling them out until he can’t take it anymore. But he knew that if this continued, he’d say more harsh things that would make Takaaki hate him, and he didn’t want that. Most importantly, he didn’t want VAZZY to break up because of his own selfishness.

Takaaki silently rises to his feet, sparing one last glance over at Ouka before turning to rest his hand on the doorknob -- he hesitates for a moment, hearing a small sniffle come from the white-haired man. 

“...Sorry, I can’t...I’m not going to just leave things like this, Ouka.” He says, removing his hand and spinning around on the balls of his feet. Ouka watches him carefully from the corner of his eye as he leans against the doorframe, a thoughtful look on his face. “I hurt you, and… and I really didn’t mean to. I’m not so good with serious stuff like this, but… shouldn’t you at least let me  _ try  _ to explain myself?”

“Do you honestly think that’s going to change anything?” Ouka’s voice cracks unwillingly as he sits up, letting his legs dangle over the side of the bed. “I mean, nothing we can say to each other is going to make you feel the same way as I do, right? There’s no point dwelling on the issue. We’re not high-schoolers, this kind of nonsense doesn’t mean anything in the real world. Especially as idols, where the media will grab onto any dissonance between us and spread rumors.”

Takaaki swallows, a lump forming in his throat. He knew Ouka was right, but…    
  


“Then, isn’t that exactly why we should sort it out now? Leaving things unfinished like this… that’s not--”

“Just let it go. It’s fine, I’ll get over it. So you should, too.”

Ouka wants to laugh, knowing very well that he won’t get over it. But he’d much rather feign ignorance and let Takaaki believe he was fine until the very end; it would be too painful to have him find out like this, knowing how much the brunet would try to meddle and worry over him. It was best to leave him in the dark, to give him the benefit of not knowing he was the cause of something so serious.

“...If you say so. But… please know that I really do care for you, Ouka. I’m worried for you. I wish there was something I could do, that I could help… um…”

Ouka feels his heart sink at those words, the sincerity of them only further pouring salt into his wounds. He shook his head violently. “Please, just go!” He shouts, lifting his head to stare over at Takaaki with silver eyes glossed over with tears. His gaze was filled with pain to the point where it made the VAZZY leader wince, lowering his eyes and mumbling one last apology before seeing himself out the door. Ouka let out a weak sob when the door shut, which quickly turned into a raspy cough, and lastly was followed by choking. He tried to muffle the sounds with a pillow long enough for Takaaki to walk away before he hurriedly reached for the trash can beside his bed, retching into it. 

At first, all that came up was blood, and a decent amount, too. At this, the idol began to tremble all over from fear, the cold sweat from his fever prickling along the back of his neck. He really was going to die soon, wasn’t he? This was much different than any of the attacks he’d had before, which must mean his condition was severely worsened after his interaction with Takaaki. Not only that, but when he finally felt something solid coming up, it wasn’t petals. They were fully bloomed flowers, this time; one after another, forcing their way up his throat along with several droplets of blood. He could feel the way the petals slid against his flesh before surfacing out his mouth, and each time the sensation made him shudder painfully.

One hand grasping onto the rim of the trash can, he weakly fumbled for his phone, picking it up in a daze. What was he supposed to do? The only one who knew of his predicament was Issa, and the long-haired male had already made it clear that he didn’t have any help to offer. It wasn’t as if anyone could change Takaaki’s feelings for him, anyways and…

As if on cue, the phone he was about to toss back to the side lit up dimly, a text message displaying itself on the screen. Ouka could barely make out the words, what with how the entire room felt like it was spiraling around him, but he was shocked to see it was from Issa.

_ [You know that you don’t have to go this route, right?] _

The white-haired idol smiles sadly at this. Of course he knew that… he’d done enough research to learn that his condition could be reversed in exchange for the removal of his feelings for Takaaki. But, no matter how much he despised these feelings of his, he’d much rather die than let them go. 

Spitting out what he prayed was the last of the flowers for now, Ouka takes a long moment to recollect himself before even attempting to reply. He feels a horribly unpleasant scratching sensation as he tries to gulp down water, every swallow sending an equal amount of pain through his nerves.

_ [I’m aware. This is what I’ve decided.] _

As he fumbles to type a text message back, Ouka laughs weakly. He must be in a pretty sorry state to make Issa of all people worry enough to actively seek out a way to help him. It felt bittersweet to have people care when his situation was so, so dull.

_ [...Alright. Can’t say anything to change your mind?] _

“Of course not…” Ouka whispers to himself. He sighed and set the trash can down onto the floor, trying to push the jarring sight of scattered flowers and blood out of his mind; this proved to be a rather difficult task when the metallic smell had long since filled the room. Collapsing back against his bed with another noise of aggravation, he figured the best thing he could do for now would be to sleep away as much of the pain as possible. 

“Takaaki…”

Replaying the conversation they’d just had in his head, Ouka wishes he could take it all back. While he’s relieved the older idol is still unaware of his sickness, it certainly wasn’t much better for him to know how his partner truly felt about him. Especially when he didn’t feel the same way.

Groaning, he buried his face into his pillow, begging for these thoughts to stop torturing him as he did his best to focus on falling asleep rather than dwelling on how badly he’d ruined everything. He wasn’t sure how long it took before his mind finally dwindled down to miniscule thoughts, but eventually he managed to drift off, gently hugging the pillow underneath his head.

\-- 

It didn’t take long for the rest of the group to start noticing that something was off. The hard-working idol had done his best to continue attending all things relating to work, but after about a week or two of struggling to come up with various excuses to branch off from the group and get the multiplying amount of flowers out of his system, his health had deteriorated so much that even he knew he couldn’t handle it anymore. He announced an indefinite break after discussing with their manager, who had insisted that Ouka go see a doctor; he’d agreed with a forced smile, promising that he would, but that was just a bluff to ease the stifling concern. Issa had gazed intently at him from the other side of the room as he thanked the manager for his concern, bowing as much as he could without setting off his instinct to cough.

Immediately once he’d gotten work out of the way, Ouka was… well, quite frankly, he was too tired to even bother with keeping up a front for VAZZY. He politely but firmly asked to be left alone before retreating to his room, and he wasn’t seen for a few days which he simply spent cycling between sleeping and vomiting up flowers. After the third day of him refusing to leave or see anyone, Futaba forced himself into the room out of concern for his groupmate with Naosuke curiously peeking out from behind him. 

But Ouka hadn’t responded, even when Futaba called his name and lightly shook his shoulder -- which he discovered was fire-hot to the touch. He was practically in a comatose state, and if it wasn’t for the deliberate rise and fall of his chest, the two boys would have assumed the worst. 

“Are those flowers?” Naosuke piped up meekly, pointing to the trash can. Most of the blood had dried at the bottom of the bin, making it impossible to notice at first glance. “What a shame, they’re so pretty! Why would Ouka-san throw them away..?”

“Flowers…?” Futaba echoed, gazing down into the trash can before picking it up. His heart sank when he spotted the blood on them, putting two and two together. He struggled to keep a poker face in front of Nao, who looked up at the tall male expectantly for a response.   
  
“Nao. Will you go and get Yuuma?” He chose his tone of voice carefully; he didn’t want to make Naosuke scared about what was going on. Luckily, the red-haired boy simply flashed a smile and gave an affirming noise before darting out from the room, energetic as ever. 

“...Why didn’t you tell anyone…?” Futaba murmured, not expecting a reply, but Ouka stirred in the bed with a strained noise. He seemed like he was barely holding on enough to recognize that someone was even in front of him. 

“Sorry…” Ouka whispers, his voice paper thin, and the older Kiduku brother feels his heart pang at the sheer amount of weakness that one word managed to convey. He feels guilt wash over him at the thought that if only he’d noticed sooner. He’d assumed that Ouka just wanted to rest up and feel better, so he’d tried not to intrude even though he was worried and wanted to help… but he should have. He should have come in to offer medicine, or food, or even just some comfort for the sick idol… but it was too late for regrets, he supposed.

“What’s with that…? I’m the one who should be sorry…” Futaba laughs, but it’s a melancholy sound, and he can’t even manage to plaster a smile on his face. He felt his hands trembling as they lay in his lap, perched on the edge of the bed as he spoke to his friend. “This is my fault, I--”

“Don’t. Please, anything but that… this isn’t anyone’s… fault but by own.”

Futaba grits his teeth, and before he can get a response out, the door clicks open once again, Naosuke bursting into the room with Yuuma trailing after him. “Is he doing alright?” The blond asked quietly, trying not to wake the sick man who had seemingly fallen back into his slumber. Futaba sighed, taking a tentative glance at the young boy who clearly had no idea he’d walked into such a serious atmosphere.

“...Ouka-san is really sick,” he begins cautiously, his voice no more than a murmur. Concern sparkled in Yuuma’s eyes as he followed Futaba’s gaze to the resting idol. Sweat was clinging onto his bangs, causing them to stick to his forehead and his breaths remained quick and shallow. It was likely that his windpipe was nearly completely obstructed by flowers at this point, from how forced each tiny inhale was. Even in his sleep, it was obvious that he was in pain from the way his eyebrows furrowed in an expression of discomfort.

“So... we should get him to the hospital, then, if it’s serious!” Naosuke cuts in, looking back and forth between his fellow group mates with confusion. Yuuma nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we can help you carry him if he’s not waking up…”

“I’m... afraid it’s not that simple…” Futaba places his hand on top of one of Ouka’s, and his own hand feels ice cold in comparison. He quickly reels his hand back, drawing in a deep breath as he prepares himself to accept just what was going on. He launched into an explanation of what exactly Ouka’s condition was, lifting up the trash can that was half filled which flowers to show the others, pointing out the splotches of blood among the petals as he dismally informed them of this disease.

“...B-but... no way… Ouka-san is…?!”

Naosuke spoke after an uncomfortable, dragged on silence, but his voice was more quiet than anyone had ever heard him be. It was unnerving how the boy who was always bubbling up a conversation was at a complete loss for words. 

“There has to be some cure, though… we should at least take him to be examined.” Yuuma insists, placing his hand to Ouka’s overheated forehead. Futaba gave a small nod, trying his best to push away his doubts. He needed to have faith that Ouka could be saved -- if not him, then who in VAZZY would be the one to keep their spirits up? He needed to put on a smile and believe. 

So he did exactly that -- forcing the grim expression off of his face, he slung one arm around Ouka’s side, while Yuuma stepped around to his other side to do the same. Luckily, Ouka was fairly light, so it wasn’t too difficult for the two of them to assist him out of the room and through the dorm. Getting through Takaaki proved to be the real barrier, though, as his face turned white as a sheet when he saw the four of them enter the living room, running over in a panic and demanding to know what was going on.

“...We’re taking him to the hospital. You and Issa should come with us, it’s only right for everyone to be there.”   
  


Takaaki looks hurt for a moment, and it was hard to tell whether it was because he was denied a proper explanation, or because of the fact that Ouka’s situation was so bad that he needed to be taken to a hospital -- maybe it was some mixture of both. 

“...Yeah. Okay, I’ll go get him.”

\--

There was an uncomfortable silence among them once they’d arrived; their shared worry was obvious, but no one knew how to voice it properly without causing more stress. Most importantly, Takaaki had refused to say a word since he’d called Issa from his room, and he looked as if he could fall apart at any moment. His emotional turmoil was understandable, both as Ouka’s partner and the leader of their group, but…

As Futaba glanced between him and Issa, he had a feeling that there was something more behind his behavior. “Nii-san, did Takaaki tell you what happened?” He tries softly, and almost flinches at the immediate head turns as he finally broke the tension-filled silence. 

“Hm? Well… I already pretty much knew, so he didn’t need to.”

_ Bingo.  _ That explained exactly why Takaaki was sulking so much more than everyone else. “...You were aware of his condition? And you didn’t tell anyone?” 

Ruby eyes flicked to the side, refusing to look at his brother directly. He at least seemed to feel a twinge of guilt at that line of questioning, but he didn’t falter for long. “...I gave him my word that I wouldn’t tell anyone. What was I supposed to do, anyways? Not like it’s my problem.”

Futaba knew he didn’t truly mean that, but Takaaki took the bait hook, line and sinker, abruptly standing from the waiting room chair with an enraged expression. Nostrils flaring, he simply stared at Issa for a moment; the black-haired idol stared back calmly, an unspoken challenge glinting in his eyes.  _ “Start a fight in a hospital room, I dare you,”  _ they practically sneered at their leader, but Takaaki stood firm in place. 

  
“Take it back,” he commands, eyes narrowing at the younger man. “Hah?! Take what back?! It’s not my _job_ to meddle in your guys’ love affairs... You do know that’s why he’s like this, right? Or are you too dense to figure that out?”

“Of course I know!” Takaaki yells, and Futaba rises with a worried look to gently grab his shoulder, silently urging him to calm down. A few nurses at the desk turn their heads at the sudden outburst to make sure everything was alright before returning to their work. 

The leader’s expression softens, twisting into one of pain as he lowered his gaze to the ground. He looked as if he was on the verge of tears as he gathered his words again. “I know that, but… If I’d known, then…”

“Then what?” Issa’s question is simple, to the point. His eyes remain trained on Takaaki, and, when he doesn’t receive a response, he continues. “What could you have done? Fabricated your emotions? Pretended you loved him to try to cure him? You’re sick in the head if you seriously think that would have helped.”

Seeming to understand the weight of Issa’s words, though they were much more blunt than necessary, Takaaki let out a frustrated sigh as he defeatedly slunk back into the pale blue seat. He lowered his head into his hands, turning the cogs in his head as he tried to fully process what was going on. “It still wasn’t fair for you to keep something like that from me. Maybe I couldn’t have cured him, but I would have had a chance to do…  _ something, _ anything!” The brunet’s words are desperate, trembling as if each individual word was being forced out of his mouth. “Letting me find out like this is just too cruel…”

Futaba reseated himself next to him, gently rubbing circles against his back as he chokes out the words, clearly taking a huge hit from the news about Ouka. It was already enough for his partner to have a terminal illness, but for that illness to be born from his unrequited love for the other… surely he must be torn up over the guilt from knowing that. 

“...Can I at least  _ talk _ to him?”

The other four sitting in the waiting room frowned, glancing at one another. “If we were allowed in there, we’d already be there by his side, Takaaki-san…” Naosuke offered meekly. He had been eerily quiet since they’d arrived, but they all knew it was only natural for him to act like this.

Yuuma nods in agreement. “The nurses are trying to be certain of his condition right now,” he explains, as if Takaaki hadn’t been standing with them when the situation was explained in the first place. He’s sure there was too much going through his mind to take in all the information given to him so readily. “They said they would immediately inform us when he could be seen.”

“But what if I never get to see him again?” Takaaki demands, and no one has an answer for that. Amethyst eyes twinkle in pain in the direction of the closed door to room 203, where Ouka was being inspected. “What if the last interaction I ever have with Ouka is a fight? What am I supposed to do, then? How could I even live with myself?” 

Tears began to well up in his eyes, glimmering under the dim lighting of the hospital before he turned away from the group to hide it; it didn’t go unnoticed by any of them. Futaba wrapped the arm that had been resting on his back around Takaaki’s shoulder, hugging him with as little forcefulness as he could manage. “Takaaki-san,” the younger Kiduku sibling murmured, struggling to find the best words to say. “Ouka would never blame you. You should know that better than anyone, right…? He’s too kind.”

“But he should,” Takaaki insists, letting himself embrace Futaba slightly, basking in the comforting warmth of his arm slung around him. “He should hate me. He has every right to, I’m such an awful person for… for c-causing this to someone, I… I don’t understand why he won’t just give up on me. If he could do that, then…”

“Love isn’t that simple,” Futaba interjects softly. “I-It’s not as if I would know from experience or anything, but,” he hurriedly adds after getting an inquisitive look from his brother. “He’s not just going to give up on his feelings for you. I think even if you ask him to, he’ll just give you a similar answer…”

The others murmured their agreement, and Naosuke crossed his arms over his chest, pretending to look thoughtful as he digested what Futaba said -- it was painfully obvious that it had gone over his head. “I see… Love, huh…” he nods his head firmly, and Yuuma couldn’t stifle the laugh that spilled out of his mouth. 

“What?! Why are you laughing?!” Naosuke demanded, pouting, and Futaba had to giggle a little at the sight, too. “Sorry, sorry,” Yuuma apologized, sighing as he put back on a serious face. “Regardless, Futaba is right, Takaaki-san. This isn’t something that you should blame yourself over… there’s nothing you could have done to change his mind.”

The silence dragged on for a little bit, before Issa let out an exasperated sigh. “...Besides, you keep talkin’ about seeing Ouka, but you know you’re only gonna make him feel worse if you march in there crying. Get it together, will you, leader?” 

Futaba smiles. “Nii-san…” 

“Don’t get it wrong, okay?! It’s not because I’m worried, I just don’t want you to make a fool out of yourself anymore. That’s all.” Issa grunts and glances away, and Futaba swears he could see his cheeks turn a little pink. How cute.

Takaaki weakly wiped at his eyes with a quiet sniffle, hiding himself against Futaba’s chest now as he tried to pull himself together. “I know… I don’t want to run away anymore,” he agrees, voice shaking. “I’ll face this head on, so that way Ouka can…”

Freezing, he realized he couldn’t muster the courage to accept reality. He couldn’t get himself to say out loud that Ouka was going to die, that this was actually something he needed to deal with; it was too painful to even consider it. 

“So he can get better, right?” Futaba whispers, petting the top of Takaaki’s head comfortingly with a bright smile. “If you don’t have hope, you have nothing. Isn’t that right? So, don’t make that face anymore… We have to believe in Ouka.”

Takaaki let out a gross sob at that, clinging to Futaba’s body; his whole body began to tremble. The light brown-haired idol simply waited patiently as Takaaki cried, murmuring words of comfort throughout his breakdown. He knew words were cheap in this situation, because this wasn’t something Ouka could pull through, but he wanted to help Takaaki have faith, regardless of how grim the situation. 

As their leader began to calm down, a door slid open in front of them. They all exchanged looks as the nurse informed them that Ouka was awake, and could be seen now. Futaba took a deep breath, and urged Takaaki to do the same, instructing him to breathe in slowly, then out. He had them repeat this three times before nudging the dark-haired boy to stand on his own. “Come on, be strong. You’re our leader, right? You have to be the one to guide us towards hope.

“You may not have the power to cure Ouka, but you do have the ability to ease his fears. Anyone in this situation would be terrified, but if you can manage to comfort him, then surely he’ll manage to deal with this a lot better… He’s counting on you, Takaaki-san.”

Takaaki nods, slow and deliberate as he tries to gather his thoughts. Futaba was right; if he were to be scared, then Ouka would be scared too. He didn’t want that… he didn’t want to ruin Ouka’s life anymore than he already had, not in these last moments that truly counted for something.

“...Thank you.”

With that, Takaaki led the group into the hospital room, bracing himself for the worst. 

Ouka was propped up with two pillows behind his back and the reclining bed set in a position so that he could lay back but still remain upright. His eyes were closed, but they opened at the sound of his groupmates entering the room, and Takaaki felt a chill go down his spine when he met Ouka’s gaze; he’d never seen a look so…  _ empty _ before. It was as if death had already claimed him, and what was sitting in front of him was no longer Ouka.

However, when the white-haired idol blinked, he had returned to the soft-yet-firm stare Takaaki was so familiar with, so he couldn’t help but wonder if he was just imagining things. His eyes next trailed to the IV that was inserted into Ouka’s inner elbow, a bruise flowering around where it disappeared into his skin which made the older male grit his teeth.The faint beeping of the monitor keeping track of Ouka’s heart rate could be heard as everyone gathered around the side of the bed, trying to keep enough distance to refrain from stressing out the sick idol. They all murmured subdued greetings, forcing smiles.

When Takaaki finally manages to ask how he’s doing, he half expects Ouka to put that sharp tongue of his to use by making a retort at him, but instead, a smile spreads across his face. Takaaki feels pain stab at his heart and twist it from side to side as he sees that warm look on his face, and wishes he could protect it for just a little longer. “I’m alright,” Ouka sighed, glancing over towards the window of the room, gazing across the parking lot from the second floor of the hospital. “So don’t look so worried.”

Clearly, no one believed that he was truly alright, but just seeing the idol smile was enough to diminish their immediate fears. With the help of pain medication and nourishment, he was surely in much better shape than he’d been previously. 

Ouka shifted in his bed a bit before turning back to the others. His grin faded as he struggled to take in a deep breath. “...I’m sorry,” he begins, and it sounded as if his voice was going to fail him at any moment. “I didn’t want things to be like this. I didn’t want to hurt any of you…”

Takaaki clenched and unclenched his jaw, willing himself to cling onto the composure he’d worked so hard to maintain. “Why are you apologizing? It’s my fault… Ouka, please, you don’t have to do this, I’m begging you--”

“Takaaki-san…” Futaba’s voice warned him into silence, but the hurt expression remaining on his face said everything it needed to for Ouka to understand. “You’re right. And it may be selfish of me to want to keep these feelings with me no matter what, but… you’re always telling me to be a little more selfish, aren’t you?”

He never imagined that words could hurt so much. He grasped at his chest, desperate to alleviate the stinging sensation somehow. “I never meant it to be like this, you idiot…!” His voice breaks miserably, leaning his elbows against the rail of the hospital bed for support. “I want you to live! Someone like me… You shouldn’t even be in love with me! It’s all my fault…!” 

“So much for keeping it together,” Issa comments under his breath loud enough for Takaaki to hear, but he ignores it, staring at Ouka with glossed over eyes, tears threatening to spill over at any moment. Ouka quickly glances away, frowning for a moment before he began to cough heavily, his face paling even more than it was already.

“Ouka!” The groupmates share a look of concern, while Takaaki doesn’t move as a nurse darts forward to help him through an attack. None of them had ever seen a sight quite as horrifying as the one in front of them, where Ouka choked and hacked up what seemed to be an endless amount of flowers. The worst part of it all was the way he instinctively grasped for Takaaki’s hand as if it were the only thing in the world he could hold onto, the only thing keeping him alive; the leader froze in his place as those cold, cold hands pleadingly grabbed onto him. His eyes were distant as he gasped for breath between vomiting, but yet begged for help all the same, and Takaaki didn’t know how to keep his composure enough to actually do anything.

“I’m… I’m here, Ouka, it’s okay,” he whispered, carefully placing his other hand on top of Ouka’s shaking ones, giving them a light squeeze. “You’ll be okay.” Even if he didn’t believe it, even if he was so scared of losing his partner right then and there, Futaba’s words rang true in the back of his mind. He couldn’t let his weakness show, not anymore, and sure as hell not when it was so clear how terrified Ouka was of dying right now. Takaaki could see it in the small glimmer of his eyes as he fought against the illness determined to suffocate him with flower after flower. 

“Ouka-san, fight!” Naosuke cheered from behind the others, most likely hiding because he couldn’t keep the fear off of his face. The others murmured their agreement, and Takaaki offered the best smile he could give before suddenly Ouka’s hands stopped shaking, going limp against Takaaki’s tight grip. The older idol froze, all color draining from his face, but he felt himself relax when realized he could still hear the monitor responding to the patient’s heartbeat. He hadn’t died, just gone unconscious from lack of air… though, was that any better? Takaaki wasn’t sure what that meant… 

“We’re going to supply him with some anesthetics and see how many flowers we can remove without destroying the core of them.” The nurse taking care of Ouka explained as she began to run the liquid through to Ouka’s IV. “That should recover his condition enough to remain conscious for the rest of the day, but…” 

Everyone fell silent, realizing what she was trying to say. They were basically trying to delay the inevitable at this point, after all -- there wasn’t anything more that could be done to prevent his death. They’d have a short window to speak to him and say anything they needed to once he was conscious again before the flowers grew back into place and...

When he realized all eyes were on him Takaaki stuttered a bit, apologizing as he finally released Ouka’s hands and watched them slip away to rest on the sheets of the hospital bed. “...Thank you, miss,” he said softly, swallowing the lump in his throat that reminded him how close he was to crying. “You’ve done so much to help him. Thank you… f-for everything, I…”

Futaba stepped up for him when his voice faltered, placing his hand on Takaaki’s shoulder. “We won’t keep you any longer, then,” he says, bowing to show his respect before ushering everyone back into the waiting room. It was clear no one knew what to say to break the tension now that they’d been told the severity of the situation. After this, they weren’t going to be able to see Ouka anymore.

“This can’t be real…” Takaaki muses as he slinks right back into the same chair he’d been in before, covering his face with the palms of his hands -- his hands, which had just been holding Ouka’s, but they hadn’t had the same warmth to them that they used to. That terrified him to the point where he found himself trembling under the realization that Ouka was really going to die. 

“He’s going to die,” he echoed his thoughts out loud, lifting his head to stare at his friends, trying to read the emotions on their faces. Everyone shared the same pained look, even Issa, as much as he tried to act neutral. “Ouka is going to die, and it’s my fault,” he sobbed out weakly.

“Oi, enough,” Issa snapped, idly crossing one leg over the other. “What’s going to come out of you sitting there feeling sorry for yourself? You really think Ouka wants to spend his last moments seeing you mope around?” 

Takaaki knew he was right, but that didn’t help with the crushing feeling of guilt consuming him. “You’re better than this,” Issa scoffs, uncrossing his leg once he’d determined it wasn’t a comfortable position to sit in. “...When he’s gone, you can cry all you want. That’s only natural… I’m not trying to tell you that you can’t mourn the loss of someone so important to you.

“...What I  _ am  _ trying to tell you is that’s not an excuse to spend this time being depressed. Stop focusing so much on what’s looming ahead, and think about what you can do now. Don’t you want to enjoy the time you have left with him?”

With a nod, the group leader pondered over Issa’s advice. “Of course I do,” he mumbled, a look of frustration crossing his face. It wasn’t that simple, of course it wasn’t; putting on a brave face when he knew he was about to lose the most important person in his life right now? That seemed like the most impossible task out there. He didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to accept that this was his reality. But he wasn’t going to just run away from it.

“You’re right,” Takaaki finally offers, sighing. “Thanks, Issa.’  
  
“Hah? Don’t thank me, it’s gross coming from you.”

The first genuine laugh that Takaaki had managed in quite a while came bubbling from his chest at the older brother returning to his sharp attitude so quickly. How like him. He could see everyone else relax a bit at the sight of his smile, and that powered him forward. “Does anyone want drinks or a snack? I’m gonna go grab something for myself, since we’ll probably be waiting for another hour at least.”

Making a mental note of everyone’s various requests, he trotted down the hallway adjacent to the waiting room. Once he’d gotten their refreshments, it was simply a matter of waiting; they occasionally made small talk as they sat huddled together in their seats, but for the most part it was a quiet, tense wait until the door slid open once more. Takaaki all but jumped to his feet, his eyes asking all the questions he didn’t verbalize in that moment.

The members of VAZZY hurried into the hospital room, and they could all tell right away just how tired Ouka looked. Both from the fact that he’d probably just been taken off of the anesthetic, but also from everything that had happened to him thus far.

Despite his obvious exhaustion, Ouka flashed them all a smile, greeting them. “Thanks for sticking around,” he murmured, hands resting on top of the blanket that covered his torso. No one was quite sure how to go about this conversation properly, so the patient himself took things into his own hands.

“...I know that I’ve caused a lot of trouble for all of you these past few years,” he began, staring down at his hands. “I’m really sorry. But… I’m so thankful. You guys gave me a place to belong, a passion to work for… I’ve never been happier than I was doing work for the VAZZROCK project.”

Takaaki gritted his teeth, a forlorn gaze casted to the ground. He wasn’t sure if he could look directly at Ouka right now. “That should be our line,” Yuuma interjects, giving a tiny smile. “You’re the hardest worker in this group. Without you… it’s going to be a real mess.”

Ouka laughs sadly at the first acknowledgment out of the group that he was going to die. Even if it wasn’t a direct comment about it, it was obvious what the blond meant by his words. “You’ll get along okay, I know it. I have faith in you all… we’re tied by special bonds, after all. Each and every one of us.”

Nodding, all of the other members couldn’t help but tear up at those words, and the conviction behind them. Be strong, Takaaki reminded himself as he struggled to find something to say, but Ouka continued to fill in the gaps left between their inability to reply.

“That’s why… I’d like to talk to each one of you individually, okay? I’m sure the nurses already told you that I’d most likely only have until the end of the day, and it’s already five o’clock. I want to have a word with all of you, one last time…”

Of course, no one had any problems with that. Starting with the younger members and making their way to Takaaki, each person would have five minutes alone to talk with Ouka and say anything they wanted to get out before they would never be able to speak again. It wasn’t long before everyone in the group was crying, trying to find the right words to be their last. 

“No one wants him to go,” Naosuke whimpered as he finally let himself cry openly, hugging his knees. “Ouka-san is so nice, I don’t want him to die…!” 

“Nao…”

Yuuma frowned, bringing the smaller boy into a warm embrace. Takaaki’s heart wrenched as he heard loud sobs from him, muffled only slightly by his partner’s chest. The both of them had been the first to speak to Ouka, and while they weren’t the closest to him out of everyone here, they still were obviously shaken up by the realization of everything. 

“We all have each other, right?” Takaaki spoke up in an awkward attempt to comfort the group; normally, Futaba would be the one swooping in to save the day, but… The dark-haired male glanced toward the closed door of the hospital room, where Futaba was in the middle of talking to Ouka. It was their leader’s job to try to cheer everyone up, now, even if he wasn’t the best at it. “As long as we’re together, we can get through this.”

He was at least glad to see a relatively positive response to his ramblings; if he could help just a little bit, then that was already a step in the right direction. 

\--

Before long, Futaba had returned, and then Issa followed him; Takaaki felt his mouth go dry when the younger brother clicked his tongue, motioning for the leader to go and see Ouka. He was scared, so scared, even with being the last of the group to meet with him… he should have had plenty of time to prepare himself, but he still was nervous.

Standing slowly, Takaaki walked on wobbly legs to slide past Issa, entering the hospital room with a sigh. To be frank, Ouka looked terrible… it made his stomach knot up at the sight, and as much as he wanted to turn tail and run, he forced himself forward.

“Ouka…”

Takaaki breathed the other’s name quietly to announce his entrance. They stared at each other for a moment before the dark-haired idol approached the side of the bed; both were silent for what felt like an eternity. 

“I’m sorry that I did this to you,” Takaaki began, and when Ouka opened his mouth to speak, he raised up a hand, a silent plea sparkling in his eyes. “There’s no denying the fact that your illness is my fault. I don’t want you to try to say that it’s not, or that I shouldn’t blame myself, okay…? Just let me talk for a moment.”

Despite that, he still wasn’t even sure how to get his words in order, the gears spinning wildly in his head to keep himself from simply combusting on the spot. “I don’t know why you fell in love with me, or why you’re so determined to hold onto these feelings, but… thank you. Thank you for being honest with yourself, and for letting yourself have these feelings… I won’t say that I deserve them, because I really, really don’t, but… I’m glad that you admired me that much.”

Was that okay? He wondered to himself as he observed his partner, worry filling his thoughts about whether he’d said too much, or the wrong thing, or… 

“...You’re really too much…” Ouka muttered before coughing, and Takaaki jolted at that, glancing around the room in a panicked daze. “A-Are you okay?!” He asked grabbing onto Ouka by his hand, who gave a violent nod that wasn’t very convincing, but was enough to stop his partner from dashing out to find the nearest nurse. 

It took a solid minute, or even two, before the outburst ceased, and with that Ouka’s energy seemed to be totally depleted. He looked absolutely fatigued as he let his head loosely rest against the pillows propped behind him, struggling to catch his breath. Silence overcame the two once more, and for a minute, they just enjoyed each other’s presence in the room, the leader letting his hands remain clasped around Ouka’s.

“...Takaaki?” The sick idol’s voice was a croak when he finally managed to say something; it hardly even sounded like the smooth, firm voice he was so accustomed to. The man in question lightly squeezed his hand to let him know he was there, fearing that if he spoke, his voice would fail him, too. And he didn’t have the excuse of being ill.

“You said that I should be more selfish…”

“...! Don’t. Ouka, you don’t need to talk, just save your strength and--”

“Please!” The sick man attempted to raise his voice to a yell, but it only sent him into another fit of gasping for air. It should have been relieving that this time was less intense than before, but it only made Takaaki feel sick to his stomach. Even he could realize that it only meant he was growing weaker and weaker by the minute, so he remained silent, opting to let Ouka say whatever he felt necessary.

“...I want to be selfish, just this once… Takaaki, can I ask something of you?”

His eyes crinkled as he offered a small smile, trying his best to remain in composure of his emotions. It was such a bittersweet feeling, knowing that Ouka was finally relying on him for help, but it would be the last time. “Of course.... Anything.” 

There was a lingering silence. Ouka shifted on the bed, shakily sliding the fingers of their hands together like pieces of a puzzle attaching together. “...That night, I… remember that you wouldn’t kiss me. It makes sense, knowing what I know now, but… I’ve always wondered what it might be like. To… to kiss you, that is.”

Takaaki wasn’t so sure that he would have answered with the same enthusiasm if he’d known what Ouka was going to say to him. His jaw hung open in shock, trying to process the weight of the words being so frailly spoken to him, and frankly, he didn’t know what he should say. 

“Please, Takaaki… This is the last thing I’ll ask from you. I know it’s selfish, I know it’s probably hurtful of me to ask, but I… I really did love you.”

_ Did. _ Past tense. “...Why are you already talking as if you’re dead…?” The brunet choked out, giving Ouka a teary look filled with pain. “That’s not fair… you’re not fair, Ouka…”

Regardless, he glanced at the door behind him, still closed. He didn’t suppose he’d have too much longer; if he was going to do it, now was the time. He drew in a steady breath, staring out the window and then back at Ouka, who was gazing expectantly at him -- pleadingly, almost. “I’m sorry it has to be like this,” he laughs as he ran a hand through his messy locks of hair, trying to ease the tension. “But if that’s all, that’s fine. Just leave it to me… um…” 

Sighing, he accepted that it wouldn’t be possible to get rid of the awkward atmosphere. Of course not, when he was going to kiss someone he didn’t even love, and they both were well aware of it. He began to lean forward with the rail on the bed holding him in place, grabbing Ouka’s hand a bit tighter right before the other met him halfway into a kiss. When their lips met, Takaaki tensed up, while Ouka seemed to relax as if it was something he’d been seeking for way too long. 

He wasn’t sure how long they remained like that -- a few seconds? -- before Ouka shifted his lips. He seemed as if he wanted to continue, but weakly detached himself from Takaaki, looking up at him with those eyes that he hated seeing so much, the ones that made it seem as if Ouka wasn’t present anymore, but also were filled with so much emotion that there was no way it was true. He felt himself tear up, but not before Ouka spoke up in a voice that he could have easily mistaken for the wind if he hadn’t been watching the way his lips moved. 

“Thank you…” 

And before Takaaki could say anything in return, that twinkle of emotion within the others eyes slowly grew dim, and Ouka slumped away from Takaaki. He felt as if the Earth itself had come to a stop around him, his whole body freezing in fear. At first, all he could hear was the sound of his own blood roaring past his ears, his pulse pounding as if he’d just run a marathon, but then another sound began to fade in. The long, monotone beep that began to torture him, ringing in his ears so loudly that he felt like he was going to pass out.

“What…?”

No sooner than the question escaped him, he felt a hand on his shoulder, forcefully pulling him away from the hospital bed. He couldn’t hear, but he watched in confusion as Futaba grabbed him by the other shoulder, shaking him as he yelled. Was he supposed to be able to hear him?  _ That’s odd. _

He couldn’t hear anything anymore. Not the way everyone in VAZZY was trying to speak to him, nor the way the nurses hurriedly wheeled Ouka’s bed out of the room while frantically speaking to one another, and wait… 

“Don’t take him away…” Takaaki spoke quietly, but it was too late. He stood, dumbfounded, even as Futaba continued to urge him to snap out of his trance; why were they taking Ouka away? He couldn’t understand.

“Takaaki!” 

The other’s frantic yelling finally broke through, amber eyes flaring with emotion as he cried. The leader had never seen Futaba cry before, and it was a sight that he wished he’d never have to witness again. He closed his eyes for a moment -- that’s right. This was real.    
  


“He’s dead,” he said out loud, as if saying it would take the weight off of his chest that felt like it was crushing his lungs. “...Ouka died.”

And with that, Futaba pulled him into a forceful hug; if he’d been able to breathe before, then he sure wasn’t able to now, with those strong arms practically squeezing the air right out of him. “F-....Futaba,” he gasped out, and the younger idol weakened his grip a bit at this, but didn’t come even close to letting him go. He was sobbing into Takaaki’s shoulder, and his hands trembled at his sides.

“Thank God,” he cried, “I wasn’t sure what to do when you wouldn’t respond, I was so scared, first we lost Ouka a-and… and…”

“It’s okay,” Takaaki murmured, and he looked over at the other members of VAZZY, who clearly shared similar emotions. “I’m here. We’re going to get through this.”

As the group sobbed over the loss of their dear friend, Takaaki murmured those words, which he personally couldn’t believe quite yet. He didn’t even remotely feel as if he would get through this, and living a life without Ouka in it felt so petrifying; especially considering the white-haired idol had been the whole reason why he’d even accepted the VAZZROCK project offer. If not for him, he wouldn’t even be here right now.

That’s why...

“Ouka…” 

He murmured the others name once more, staring up at the white tile ceiling of the hospital. If nothing else, he wanted to change, to become someone who was worth those feelings Ouka had tried so hard to protect… he didn’t want to disappoint him. Not after they’d come this far.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, as if the other would be able to hear his apology, and finally returned Futaba’s hug. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, he’d become a person who was worthy of Ouka’s sacrifice -- of that much he was certain.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
